


Your Brain Is Wrong

by TheAwkwardPinCushion



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Depression, Gen, cole is a precious baby, mira doesn't like solas, my precious son
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 02:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3191732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardPinCushion/pseuds/TheAwkwardPinCushion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ta-da! This is what happens when I stay up too late and start thinking not-so-great thoughts about myself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Brain Is Wrong

It was another one of _those_ days.

Mira didn't want to get out of bed. She pulled the covers over her head, trying to block out the sunlight. They would send someone for her when they noticed her absence from breakfast. If she were to be honest with herself, she didn't care. They could send whoever they wanted – she wasn't moving.

She groaned when she heard someone knock on her door. She didn't get up, just tried to hide her head under the blankets.

“Mira,” the soft, misty voice of Cole said, “your brain is wrong.”

Her ears perked up. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Your brain says that you're not good enough to do what you do. That you'll mess up and hurt someone. It's wrong.”

She turned to face the boy. He knew too much to look so young.

“You're scared. Sometimes you wonder what it would be like if you were hurt in battle, bad enough that you didn't make it. You would be gone, and the world would fall apart. That's the only thing that keeps you here.”

“You know too much, Cole,” she said, her voice hoarse as if she hadn't used it in years.

“Only because you're too sad.” His features gave off an expression of worry. Damn it all, she cared for the twerp. She didn't want him to worry.

“It isn't anyone's fault but mine.”

“Solas could help,” he said. Mira scoffed.

“The only reason I'll go to Solas is if I'm  _dying,_ ” she said. Their failed romance left a sour taste in her mouth. He was too arrogant, had too much of a “holier-than-thou” aura about him.

“You are,” Cole said. He blinked at her, as if this was something you talked about over your morning meals.

“I'm not,” she argued, “I'm just...sick.”

“You can die from being sick. This is the kind of sick. Just because no one can see it doesn't mean it's not there.”

She sighed. “What can Solas do to help me, then?”

“He can make a potion. It rights the messages in your mind and makes them tell the truth,” he explained.

“Will it make you feel better if I did it?” she sighed, getting up and pulling her clothes over the very slight underclothes she wore to bed. Modesty be damned.

“Yes,” he said. His answer surprised her, he caring about her as an individual instead of the Herald of Andraste was comforting.

“Will you come with me?” she asked, slipping her boots on.

“Yes.”

 


End file.
